


A Friend In Need (...)

by Gaffsie



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie
Summary: For thekinkmeme prompt: "Jughead goes for some angry sort of hate!sex with Sweetpea, but Sweetpea is actually sweet and has a major crush on him, and it ends up being really loving."Alternatively; Jughead's a drama queen, and Sweet Pea makes him feel better.





	A Friend In Need (...)

Jughead slams the trailer door behind Betty's retreating back, and wipes at his eyes furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

He and Betty had broken up, _again_ , and this time he's pretty sure it's for good. Betty had said all the right things about it “being her not him,” and how his friendship still meant the world to her, but he knows it was all just a bunch of pretty lies. Jughead knows that deep down, she'd wanted to tell him all the things Archie had once said in her staid.

The worst part is that he can't even blame her. He's a fuck-up, and he knows, even without Archie and Betty telling him, that his life will just keep spiralling out of control until he ends up like everybody expects him to; a drunken, useless husk of a man, bitter at all the things he once had that has slipped out of his grasp. It's what had happened to his dad, and Jughead knows, like the way he'd once known the sweet curve of Betty Cooper's mouth, that it is what will happen to him. 

He's fought it for so long; his entire life it feels like, but _God_ he is just so tired. Might as well give up, and give this shitty town and all the judgmental assholes in it what they want.

 _Might as well get started right away_ , he thinks, grim, and makes his way to the bedroom. FP thought he was slick, stashing one of his bottles of cheap scotch in the closet behind his work clothes, but Jughead has spent enough time desperately trying to hide his booze from him to know all his hiding places by now. 

He can't find the bottle at first, his hands sorting furiously through the messy pile of clothes on the bottom of the closet, and for a second he despairs, thinking maybe his dad had actually remembered to throw it out the last time he decided to get clean. 

Finally, he finds it, under the safety vest FP had discarded when he got fired by Fred Andrews. It is still half-full, and Jughead feels a small glow of pride for his dad. He really hasn't touched the stuff since the last time Jughead had went through the closet.

He doesn't bother getting a glass, just opens the bottle and leans back against the closet door. 

He doesn't even get the bottle all the way to his mouth before the sickly-sweet smell of the scotch makes him gag. Like his own personal madeleine, the smell only serves to bring him back memories of all the times his dad had been reeking of the stuff; of the shouting, shoving, and - _god_ \- the pathetic crying that tended to follow.

He can't do it. 

“Fuck!”, he shouts, and throws the bottle against the wall.

It doesn't even break. Plastic bottles rarely do. 

It just falls pathetically to the floor, spilling its amber content against the wall, on the carpet.

The old Jughead would have cleaned it up. 

The new Jughead still cleans it up, because this is his dad's bedroom, and he is doing so well with his AA meetings, and positive affirmations, and Jughead doesn't want to ruin that. Plus, he'll worry. Jughead doesn't want that either.

He puts his dad's clothes back on the hangers while he's at it. 

While he's returning the mop to the kitchen, he thinks about his next step on his way to personal ruin. Alcohol is out, obviously. Drugs too. He's already been in plenty of fights, and he didn't much enjoy it. He isn't like Sweet Pea that way, getting rid of his frustrations by using his fists.

No, what he needs, Jughead realizes, is an ill-advised, violent fuck. Wake up in some scuzzy stranger's bed reeking of cum and bad decisions. That was the sort of thing people like him were supposed to do, right? 

_The Whyte Wyrm_ , which is probably the best place to pick up a scuzzy one-night-stand, is still in Ghoulie territory, and Veronica's - _ugh_ \- speak-easy is full of people he goes to school with. That leaves him the night club. 

The very thought of going there practically makes him break out in hives, but needs must. Jughead Jones is a man on a mission. 

After some deliberation, he decides to take FP's truck. Maybe he and his future morning-after regret can do the traditional thing and 'park'. 

He still isn't sure exactly how you are supposed to pick up a stranger. He'd sort of pined for Betty from afar until he finally gathered enough courage to climb through her window and kiss her, but most people would call the police if he tried that strategy on them. Toni, he's pretty sure, had mostly been feeling sorry for him. Veronica had kissed him to prove a point, and he'd just been along for the ride. 

Maybe, he thinks, he can just... stand around and look sufficiently dangerous and broody, and someone will take pity on him.

He's just in the process of putting on his leather jacket when Sweet Pea barges through the door. He closes it so violently that it rattles on its hinges.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jughead asks.

Sweet Pea's gaze sweeps over him, assessing and cool. 

“Cooper came by, asked me to check up on you,” he says. 

He smirks. “I think she was worried you'd do something dumb.”

“Like she cares,” Jughead says. 

Sweet Pea crosses his arms and sort of... looms at him.

“She cares, dumb-ass. Wouldn't have called on me otherwise.”

“Whatever,” Jughead says. “I'm going out.”

Sweet Pea pinches the bridge over his nose and sighs, deeply and heart-felt.

“Okay,” he says, “you've got your martyr face on. You're definitely going to do something stupid.”

“Fuck you, Sweets,” Jughead says, and tries to push his way past him. Sadly, Sweet Pea is bigger and stronger than he is, so the effect is unsatisfying. It is a bit like pushing at a wall. A very warm and muscle-y wall.

Sweet Pea sighs again, and grabs Jughead by his arms. 

“Yeah, no,” he says. “Just eat some ice-cream and watch _The Notebook_ , or whatever nerds do when they've been dumped."

Suddenly, fighting doesn't seem like such a bad idea after all. 

“Sweet Pea, you have three choices,” he grits out. Either you let me go so I can go out and get laid; the coping strategy of red-blooded American males everywhere, you fight me, or you can do the fucking job yourself.” 

He pushes at Sweet Pea's chest, but he just tightens his grip. At this rate he'll have rings of bruises on his biceps tomorrow. _Good_ , he thinks, darkly satisfied.

“All right,” Sweet Pea says, agreeably. “You wanna fight? We'll fight. You wanna fuck? We'll fuck.”

Jughead can _feel_ his jaw hit the floor. He goggles at Sweet Pea, who is still calmly holding him by his arms, like he hasn't just swept the metaphorical rug away from under them both.

“I-”

Sweet Pea releases him, but doesn't get out of his space. “Make your choice, Jones, or I'll make it for you.”

“Uh.”

Sweet Pea smirks. There's a flirty glint in his eyes that Jughead hasn't seen directed at him before.“I've never seen you at a loss for words before. I like it.”

In one smooth move, he puts his finger under Jughead's chin, tilts his face up, and gives him a brief peck on the lips, calm as everything, like this is an everyday occurrence. 

Jughead blinks. 

“What the fuck, he says. It comes out a little squeaky.

Sweet Pea bends down again, but this time Jughead cranes his head away before he can kiss him.

“No kissing,” he says. He doesn't think he can handle that. This is already starting to feel overwhelming.

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes, but his mouth is turned down at the corners, like he's disappointed. “Insecure much, Pretty Woman?”

Jughead decides to be a little proactive, and pushes at Sweet Pea's chest, hoping that he'll push back, or something, turn this into something more like a fight, something predictable.

Sweet Pea surprises him again, by letting him. Soon Jughead has him backed up against the wall, with no real idea what to do with him. 

Sweet Pea is gazing down at him, looking equal parts amused and fond, and Jughead can feel himself blush.

“I didn't expect that to work,” he says, gruffly. His hands are still on Sweet Pea's chest. He feels warm, even through his usual layers of t-shirt, flannel, and jean vest.

Sweet Pea snorts. “You caught the tiger by its tail. Now what?

Jughead lifts his chin, and looks him straight into his dark – and kind of pretty, now that he is looking at them – eyes. He can play chicken with the best of them, and is not going to back down. Won't give Sweet Pea the satisfaction.

Keeping his gaze locked on Sweet Pea's face, he moves his hands to his shoulders. And pushes. 

Again, Sweet Pea surprises him. He doesn't even break eye contact, just sinks down on his knees, a challenge in his eyes that Jughead is determined to rise to.

“You gonna suck my dick, Sweet Pea?” 

Sweet Pea's cockily raised eyebrow is answer enough. He reaches out and pops open the button on Jughead's fly as Jughead looks on in disbelief. 

The sound of his zipper being lowered makes Jughead bite his lip, and the way Sweet Pea roughly pulls down his pants and underwear past his thighs makes him clutch at Sweet Pea's shoulders.

He is half-hard already, just from the sight of Sweet Pea on his knees in front of him. His black hair looks very soft in the muted light and his gaze is heavy with the promise of something Jughead isn't quite ready to acknowledge. He is the one caged in against the wall, but Jughead still feels like he is the one being held captive, just by the weight of that look.

“Not bad, Jones,” Sweet Pea says, looking approvingly at his dick. He quickly jacks it to full hardness, and, with one last challenging glance upwards, he leans in and takes it in his mouth. His hands goes to Jughead's ass, holding him in place, his fingers feeling scalding hot on his skin. 

Jughead hitches out a startled breath, and can only watch in disbelief as Sweet Pea works his mouth over his dick. The sight of his cock sliding in and out of Sweet Pea's shiny pink mouth is amazing enough, and will probably stay with him until his death-bed, but the feeling...

Betty had never done this to him. He'd never insisted. 

But holy shit, the feeling. Sweet Pea's mouth like a hot inferno around him, his tongue massaging the underside of his dick in a way he's never experienced before, but never wants to go without now that he has, and the sucking is fucking exquisite. 

He's clutching desperately at Sweet Pea's broad shoulders, practically leaning on him for support, and Sweet Pea just _takes_ it, the way he's taking Jughead's dick into his mouth. Steady and skilled. Sweet, the way he never is.

The first time he can feel himself hit the back of Sweet Pea's throat he has to close his eyes, sensory overload, spots dancing at the edges of his vision. He's moaning, quiet and heartfelt, and Sweet Pea is sucking his dick like he's hungry for it, the wet sucking sounds traveling through Jughead's ears straight to his dick.

“I'm gonna come,” he grates out, because he's pretty sure you're supposed to give a warning, but Sweet Pea doesn't even slow down. If anything, he sucks harder, and with one last groan, Jughead can feel himself come. His vision goes blinding white, and his legs feel like jelly, and through it all, Sweet Pea keeps sucking, milking him completely dry. 

Jughead doesn't open his eyes until he feels Sweet Pea letting his dick glide out of his mouth. 

His face is kind of flushed, and his mouth looks _bruised_ , and Jughead shivers when he thinks, _I did that_. Sweet Pea is panting, and when Jughead glances down he sees that he's hard, his erection tenting his jeans.

Sweet Pea leans back, letting his hands fall to his knees. His eyes are very dark. Jughead thinks that if he walked away now, Sweet Pea would let him.

Jughead doesn't want to walk away. 

The floor is hard and cold, but sinking down on his knees is a relief. This time he's the one leaning in, and Sweet Pea lets him. Lets him kiss that bruised mouth, lets him tangle his hands in that dark hair that feels exactly as soft as it looks. 

But it's Sweet Pea, and Sweet Pea has never been passive, and as soon as he realizes that his touches are welcome, he's cupping Jughead's face, and nipping at his lips, until Jughead lets him set the pace, lets him suck on his tongue.

They're both moaning now, and when Sweet Pea tangles his hand with Jughead's and brings it to his lap, he knows exactly what to do.

Together, they get Sweet Pea's fly open, gets his hard dick out from his boxer briefs. Jughead has to stop kissing him then, has to lean his head against Sweet Pea's and _watch_.

His dick is large, no surprise there, uncut, and it's so dark with blood it's almost angry-looking. The head is wet with precum, and Jughead watches, fascinated, as he works his hand up and down on it.

Sweet Pea grunts every time Jughead twists his fist just right, fucks into his hand helplessly, and he tries to chase that sound, make Sweet Pea feel as good as he made Jughead feel. 

One of his hands has made it to Jughead's waist, the other is clutching at his hair almost painfully hard, but Jughead finds that he doesn't mind.

Sweet Pea's whole body tenses when he comes, and Jughead feels very pleased with himself when he watches Sweet Pea's come seep over his hand. 

Curious, he brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean. He wrinkles his nose a little at the taste, but he figures he'll get used to it. 

Sweet Pea groans when he sees it, and feeling wicked, Jughead reaches down and swipes his fingers through the come on Sweet Pea's stomach. Looking at Sweet Pea from under lowered lashes, he sticks his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean, releasing them with a loud 'pop'.

“You're a damn tease,” Sweet Pea says, but he sounds pleased.

“You like it,” Jughead shoots back.

“As long as you can deliver,” Sweet Pea says, and Jughead thinks about his plan to find a scuzzy stranger to fuck.

Sweet Pea isn't scuzzy, and he isn't a stranger, but something tells Jughead that he can fuck just fine. Maybe he'll get to get over his break-up in a way worthy of a red-blooded American male after all.


End file.
